


Aftermath

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And the aftermath, / Open up your eyes. / You’re so alive." (R.E.M.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MerriWyllow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerriWyllow/gifts).



 

When it was all over, he found himself clinging onto his old habits as a way to prove himself that he was still alive.

He always pretended not to notice the way Lisbon raised a questioning eyebrow whenever she caught him staring at the Elvis stain on the ceiling, nor the hint of worry that flashed across her face each and every time he retreated to the attic. It wasn't as if he had much else to do these days, apart from the occasional trip to the kitchenette in order to brew his tea to perfection.

Tea. Couch. Memories. A brief nap. More memories. Another cup of tea.

That was pretty much his routine when they weren't on a case. Apathy was washing over him like a flood, and he was too tired to fight it.

He wondered if someday they would find him withered in a corner of the CBI building, like a dry leaf waiting for the wind to blow it away. Death by boredom – did anything of the kind even exist?

There were times at night when he wandered across his memory palace, picking up pieces of junk and debating whether he should throw them away or not. However, he could never bring himself to in the end; he wasn't anywhere ready to give up on any of his memories, no matter how insignificant they were. The place was cluttered up with random fragments he'd been piling up over the last decade, filing them up for future reference in case they happened to be related to his hunt for Red John.

Except that Red John was no more, and he kind of missed the thrill of chasing him now.

Contrary to popular belief, he didn't feel any better ever since the serial killer's demise. If anything, his drive for revenge had provided him with a reason to live; it had also helped him to focus on something different than his guilt and grief over the loss of his family.

He still missed them like the first day, kept torturing himself with happy memories of the past which made the present even bleaker than it already was.

All he had left was a smiling face on a wall, his faithful Citroen, and a pair of old shoes. No wonder that he spent his waking hours faking some measure of normalcy by drinking tea and burrowing into the comforting softness of his worn-out couch.

He felt cold and empty inside, wished he could cry but no tears fell from his weary eyes. It wouldn't do for him to show his weakness in front of his colleagues anyway, especially when Lisbon's concerned eyes followed him wherever he went.

It was late one night when he heard her footsteps approaching, the bullpen was dark and empty and she should have left hours ago. He didn't open his eyes though, simply waited for her to wish him goodnight and walk away.

"I'm taking the next week off," she said at length. "My brother just got engaged and he wants me to meet his fiancée."

The hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Looks like he wants his sister's approval."

"Sort of," she replied at length, and he could easily picture her shrugging her shoulders.

"It's Tommy we're talking about, isn't it?"

"Yep. Annie seems excited about her new stepmother, but I'm not so sure about the whole thing at all."

That was when he finally opened his eyes and searched her gaze for a moment.

"Why not?" he murmured at length. "Your brother deserves a second chance at happiness, like everybody else."

Something flickered about her eyes for the briefest of moments, but he caught it nonetheless. As much as he'd always claimed she was translucent for him, he could actually read her very thoughts right now.

_What about you? Don't you deserve a second shot at happiness after all these years?_

That caught him off guard, and he found himself wondering whether she could be right after all. Then he swung his feet off the couch and sat up, studying her face in silence.

"Say hi to Annie for me, will you?"

A slow smile lit up her face; she was getting better and better at reading him, he would bet his bottom dollar that she'd seen right through his casual statement. She was family to him, and she knew it; perhaps someday she would be in every sense of the word too.

"Of course I'll do. Goodnight, Jane."

"Goodnight, Lisbon."

As he sunk back against the cushions he closed his eyes and felt something warm stirring inside his frozen heart. Sleep welcomed him almost instantly, he dreamt of green eyes smiling down at him until the first morning light came in through the blinds.


End file.
